The Wendigo

h no one dared refer to them. Hank, being nearest to primitive conditions, was the first to find himself, for he was also less complex. In Dr. Cathcart "civilizati

d somehow the advance of humanity had emerged terrifically, betraying a scale of life still monstrous and immature. He envisaged it rather as a glimpse into prehistoric ages, when superstitions, gigantic and uncouth, still oppressed the hearts of men; when the forces of nature were still un

the two types of mind made it difficult. Only once, years later, something led

the reply, though conceived in wisdom, was not encouraging,

ersisted the nephew. "W

ed at him and rai

and sights of telepathic communication. I make as

b as usual with his exp

er-spent to recognize either surprise or annoyance; but the cry of spontaneous affection that burst from the lips of Hank, as he rushed ahead of them towards the fire-place, came probably as a warning that the end of the amazing affair was not quite yet. And both Cathcart

indeed

His body crouched there, the weak fingers obeying feebly the instinctive habit of a lifetime with twigs and matches. But there was no longer any mind to

He did not seem to know who it was that embraced him, or who it was that fed, warmed and spoke to him the words of comfort and relief. Forlorn and broke

d moss-eater"; the continued vomiting of even the simplest food; and, worst of all, the piteous and childish voice of complaint in which he told them that his feet pained him-"bur

uding an immense detour of the lake on foot since he had no canoe-all this remains unknown. His memory had vanished completely. And before the end of

re about five o'clock in the evening-an hour, that is, before the search party returned-when he saw this shadow of the

f three days as only Indian blood could have covered it. The terror of a who